Life Continued...

I didn't write about this at the time, but before backpacking, I went to Seattle to visit my peeps up there. And after a week of visiting the old haunts and seeing the people I love, I wanted to stay. And when I got back to Cali, I still wanted to stay in Seattle. Seattle is home to me now, after four years and a year away. It's where I want to be (if I have to stay in the States, that is). So, I made the decision to move.

Step One of moving is finding a job. Well, technically, Step One is finding a place to live, but anywhere is going to cost money, so I have to find a job. I'm going for full-time benefitted positions, because I have a degree but I also want to be in ministry or with a non-profit organization. So that decreases my chances I guess, but I have a phone interview with University Presbyterian Church tomorrow. We'll see how it goes...

I just got back from backpacking with my parents and the family friends we've been backpacking with for years. I was unfortunately the youngest one there for a while (although Erica, another daughter currently working as a Wilderness Ranger, met us out there later), but it was still fun to catch up with all these people I've known forever and hadn't seen in a while. I took lots of pictures after we fired Mom from camera duty, and I've posted them here. Enjoy!

I have two weeks left of work and three weeks left in country. That seems quick, but, judging by the speed with which the previous weeks have gone, it will take forever to get through them.

And I can't quite wrap my mind around going home. It's still home and I miss it, but things will be different. I'll notice things that I never noticed before, and I'll have to start life all over again.

But if I have to start over, that means that I have a life here that I'm soon leaving behind.

I have a life here, but it snuck up on me, and I didn't feel it coming.

I've almost exclusively felt the mutual imposition of my living situation, the responsibility of being here with a purpose, the cultural miscommunications, and the need to be where I'm needed and loved. But now, looking back, I realize that I do indeed have a life here.

I have friends, family, a job, favorite hang-outs, a routine, etc. And however hard it's been, maybe I will be sad to leave it.

So, for the time remaining, I should be sentimental and enjoy every minute.

I've never been good at that. My natural tendency is to look toward the future and forget about the past, but in this case, I might regret forgetting.

And so I'll try. I'll rebel against my nature and live to the fullest possible for the time remaining.

I never thought a soccer game would get me so depressed. The US lost to Ghana and are out of the tournament. And they didn't even play that well. If they had played a fabulous game and only made one mistake, then I might be able to be content. But they didn't. Other than Dempsey's goal, the whole game was just one missed chance after another. And Landon--either he was sick, really freaked out, or intentionally throwing the game. He could've done so much better. They all could've. Except maybe Jimmy Conrad and Oguchi Onyewu--they gave it their all, which is why Ghana only won by one goal. Well, I'm aimlessly rambling, so just know that I'm not happy.

Every street in Hanoi has its own distinct smell--some good, and some bad--especially the small side streets and alleys that wind between the busy main roads and boulevards. In particular, the street on which the MCC office sits offers a unique combination of smells.

Turning onto the narrow side street, my nose is assailed by the rancid smell of garbage simmering in the heat, waiting to be taken away by the garbage trucks. The ladies who sweep the sidewalks and ring the cowbell to tell people to bring out their garbage gather all their carts on this corner. When I walk by, I have to hold my breath or else I feel like my nose is burning. After the garbage dump, when I walk along the wall on the right side, I can very often smell fresh human excrement or urine from the corners.

Around the bend, however, I get some relief; someone is always barbequing pork on the sidewalk in front of a bun cha restaurant. I have no idea what they marinate the meat in, but the aroma from the barbeque is the sweetest smell in Hanoi. Especially after the trash.

Just past the bun cha restaurant, vegetable and fruit sellers line the sidewalk with baskets of their wares, especially right before the lunch hour, when everyone is buying for the meal. The fruit are very often cut open, and the smells mix with the smoke and sweet meat. Sometimes, a seller will have durien, which even before it’s cut can be smelled about a mile away. After the fruit and veggies is the meat and fish, whose smells are self-explanatory. The worry here are the little puddles of meat juice in the street, which one has to go around unless one wants to smell of raw meat all day. Near the meat sellers are pho shops that add a salty, spicy, cooked meat smell to the other scents wafting around.

Meanwhile, motorbikes and cars are fighting their way down the narrow lane, avoiding pedestrians stopping to shop, motorbikes that zoom out of alleys, bicycles being backed up into the street and live fish that flop out of the butcher’s hands. The familiar smell of exhaust is dominant for a while where the traffic is the worst.

And finally, I make it to the MCC office, the first house in a small side alley. And there, Chi Thu’s cooking meets my nose, and makes me remember my hunger.